In moments of clarity, we often find ourselves standing on the edge of truth, fully aware of what is right and wrong. Yet, with baffling regularity, we leap into the arms of folly. We know the harm that awaits, and yet, we let ourselves fall. Why do we, as rational beings, so willingly choose the path of self-destruction?
Philosophy offers us many explanations for this peculiar human trait. Ancient philosophers, from Socrates to Nietzsche, grappled with the paradox of human irrationality. Socrates, with his relentless pursuit of knowledge, believed that to know the good was to do the good. But history has shown us time and again that knowledge alone is not enough. Nietzsche, on the other hand, saw human behavior as driven by deeper forces—will, power, and the chaos within. For him, our actions are not just dictated by reason but by the primal forces we often refuse to acknowledge. We rebel against the very truth we hold.
Throughout history, this folly has manifested in countless ways. Think of the great tragedies of human ambition, from wars to personal betrayals. Julius Caesar, walking into the Senate on the Ides of March, knew full well the conspiracies brewing around him. But did he retreat? Did he choose caution? No. History and ambition blinded him, as they have blinded so many others before and after him. And perhaps it is this very blindness—a deliberate one—that drives us toward disaster. The fool’s path is not always accidental; it is often chosen.
But beyond the philosophical, beyond the grand narratives of history, there is something deeply personal about our flirtation with folly. It is as if, in moments of lethargy or hubris, we choose to test the universe, to see if the consequences we know will follow might just, for once, be suspended. We flirt with the idea that we are exceptions, that the rules governing harm and consequence don’t apply to us, at least not this time.
And here lies the poetic tragedy: knowing, but ignoring. Feeling the weight of truth, but lifting the feather of foolishness. It is this dance with the absurd that defines our struggle. We know that overeating harms us, but we indulge. We understand the weight of procrastination, but we let time slip away. We see the truth, clear as the midday sun, and still, we chase shadows.
Perhaps, in the end, folly is not the opposite of wisdom, but a part of it. It reminds us of our limits, of the ways in which our hearts and minds are in constant conflict. And perhaps, just perhaps, there is a strange beauty in that—in knowing the truth but daring to walk the edge of chaos anyway. For in that folly, in that recklessness, we glimpse both our fragility and our power.
"What makes us who we are? What defines our essence?"
This was the question that haunted my adolescence and continues to puzzle me to this day. Who are we? Who am I? What makes me think the thoughts I have, and what drives me to the actions I take? Why did I make the specific choices I made?
At that distant time, I was not yet acquainted with Descartes and his assertion that thinking confirms our existence in this world: "Cogito, ergo sum." But I doubt his answer would have satisfied my curiosity back then. My doubt was not about existence itself but about the nature of that existence.
In a vague way, I felt that the details of my life defined me—the place I was born, the people I lived with, the events that occurred in my life might have steered my thoughts in one direction over another. Although these were my feelings during my teenage years, Jean-Paul Sartre remained too complex for me. I couldn’t grasp how others could be hell. Those statements seemed artificial, like meaningless slogans.
I believe if I had understood Sartre back then, I could have avoided many of life's unfortunate incidents. Most of the people around me were hell itself, and except for two individuals, I did not want to be with anyone else. Yet, they continued to shape my life experiences, pushing me toward an introverted path, where I drowned in my own world, perhaps driving me to love reading and books, and escaping into distant imaginary worlds. This traditional path led me to life’s incidents without realizing the absurdity of this story.
I didn’t understand Sartre, nor did I comprehend how he suddenly concluded his ethical philosophy advocating for freedom and social responsibility. Sartre seemed complex and illogical to me. I was immersed in my personal experiences, facing misery and mistreatment, and my instinct was to distance myself from all this misery.
It wasn’t until later that I realized that Sartre, unlike most existential philosophers, was trying to emphasize not to follow blindly what personal experience shaped you into. He was advocating for liberation from personal experience and stepping into the broader human principles that shaped European modernity.
Now, I lean towards viewing Sartre as a social philosopher who used existentialism as a path to promote European modernity in society. Although many started from the same point—social experience and knowledge—each philosopher ended up with a different stance. For example, John Locke saw the mind as a blank slate (Tabula Rasa), written on by human experience, leading to an epistemological approach to explaining the knowledge in the world. In contrast, David Hume saw human identity as a chameleon, changing with its movement; a series of impressions and ideas shaped by changing experiences, nearly nullifying the concept of identity itself.
I read these philosophers and understood nothing. When I emerged from my teenage years unscathed, I discovered Viktor Frankl and loved his extraordinary journey to find freedom and meaning. Perhaps it was Frankl who made me return to Sartre to understand him better, although I still relish the idea of existence preceding essence, which should guide identity towards ethics.
My encounter with Martin Heidegger’s philosophy was a stormy one. Unlike the ethical Sartre, Heidegger was provocative. The first thing I read was his letters to his lover, Hannah Arendt, the philosopher who trivialized the motives of evil and contemplated revolution. I wasn’t convinced by a word Heidegger said, except perhaps his talk about the impossibility of translation. The concept of a person conveying truth about the world and aligning with it in one existence resembled mystical talk, akin to what I read about the union of God and matter, pantheism, and a long history I engaged with from Hallaj to Ibn Arabi—all those philosophical and interpretive mazes that twist around meanings and the simplicities of things.
In my mid-twenties, I was fascinated by how my search for an answer to my question led me into endless mazes and how most philosophers started from what I thought was the beginning of explanation and ended up with things that didn’t align with each other in any way, except that they emerged from the womb of European modernity and materialistic thinking.
But as I began to become independent and decide whom to keep around me and whom to leave behind forever, the answer appeared differently to me.
"What makes us who we are?"
My answer was, "Our actions," not what happened to us. Our choices define who we are.
My answer was heavily influenced by what I read from Viktor Frankl: how our response to what happens to us defines our identity. This is nearly the essence of Sartre’s philosophy. While Sartre advocated responding according to ethics, Frankl called for seeking a personal value that guides your responses.
I spent a significant amount of time influenced by this idea, enjoying the newly discovered freedom. I suppressed my anger, smiled in the face of my enemies, and decided for myself how to spend my day.
Then I encountered the concept of collective consciousness in my readings of Jung. I disliked Freud's sexual analyses, perhaps because they revealed more about myself than I could bear or because they put catastrophic ideas in my head. Thus, my escape from Freud to Carl Jung was, at its core, an attempt to "get easy with myself."
My reading of Freud stemmed from my admiration for Frankl; both were psychologists, and someone told me, "If you’re going to read psychology, you must start with Freud."
Carl Jung introduced me to another layer and presented the world to me. The concept of the collective unconscious that we all share was new to me. The shared symbols that enter the world of dreams to shape our consciousness or are shared among us began to alert me that I am not an individual separate from the world, but rather part of a greater existence. And this was another disaster, for I had not yet discovered myself to then recognize humanity and its unconscious symbols.
But this idea brought me back to a point I had encountered with Descartes and quickly abandoned: the mind. But not the conscious, thinking mind aware of what it thinks, but the unconscious mind that stores images and experiences and disturbs our sleep. A mind closer to feeling, or the ability to store emotions.
This idea terrified me, this strange mix between mind and heart, between the illogical and the emotional. I began to feel that "my identity" was a puzzle, a mystery that couldn’t be solved, and this caused me a degree of frustration.
I had abandoned the idea that past life events dictate our actions in subsequent days. I began to see it as a defeatist and negative idea. But I faced it again with modern French philosophy.
In my early thirties, during my master's studies, I discovered Michel Foucault. He was my wide gate to modern philosophy. I hadn’t previously engaged with modern philosophy, especially French, except through the writings of Abdelwahab Elmessiri and his fierce attack on material modernity. Unfortunately, not much French philosophy has been translated, and what has been translated is stuck in academic circles, not available to a wider audience. Thus, my encounter with it was academic.
Foucault’s revolutionary ideas resonated with my adolescence. Analyzing power and deconstructing it was very entertaining, and the tools he provided seemed intriguing. From Foucault, I ventured into Althusser, Jacques Derrida, Charles Taylor, Judith Butler's gender theory, Maurice Merleau-Ponty, and all the phenomenological philosophy group that starts from sensory experience as the beginning of forming identity and meaning. Phenomenology was a blend of David Hume, John Locke, William James, and John Dewey, and although the movement started from Marxism, which began as an extension of a Hegelian concept, it seemed different to me.
The focus of phenomenology was on experience separate from identity without any preconceived ideas or essence preceding identity as Sartre claimed; it was just matter and nothing more. It was a call to reconsider the world with an empty mind.
But as I tried to do that, I found that the world reproduces itself. I spent a long time meditating, but amidst my meditations, I found that even if I faced the world with an empty mind and discarded all my preconceived ideas, my identity would be reshaped anew, and I would fail to face my experiences without preconceived notions, finding that my identity—as David Hume said—would turn into a series of impressions that change every moment.
But as I finished my studies, I tried to avoid this question entirely. I tried to let myself become a social product driven by politics and shaped by economic motives, seeking to find something to sustain me.
And whenever I was faced with the question: Who, the heck, am I?
I can earnestly say that I dwell more in daydreams than in the realm of reality. Often, I find myself detaching from my interlocutor, plunging into a newly conjured daydream that, more often than not, seems far superior to the reality of the moment.
Sometimes, I claim to be pondering a novel idea or a study I’m working on, but truth be told, I'm often fabricating. I've repeatedly attempted to translate these daydreams into the literary world, yet reality looms over and imposes itself onto any text I try to immerse in as deeply as I do in my daydreams.
Regrettably, the dream I live in during wakefulness is filled with whimsical elements that satisfy a deep psychological need within me, replacing a missing sensation. These often involve very childlike desires: the yearning for admiration or love, the desire to be cherished by those we admire or seek to emulate, only to find that they, in turn, become one’s admirers. There's a longing for rebellion, for breaking away to distant worlds alone, where one can simply relish nature, literature, or the company of animals. A desire to break the shackles merely because they constrict and confine our dreams to a suffocatingly small space.
More disheartening is that these fanciful dreams and wild desires, merely attempts at savoring life, do not suffice to compose a novel in themselves. They might serve as a prelude or an introduction, but a novel requires structure, treatment, transformations, and a journey of self-discovery. It must convey an artistic vision and philosophical depth to be considered a worthy literary text.
But what if the protagonist has no desire to embark on any kind of journey? What if his philosophy is solely to enjoy life, living out his artistic visions in fleeting daydreams that evaporate, leaving nothing but a sweet residue of happiness?
Such a character might well be accused of nihilism, of being an Epicurean, or perhaps seen as a follower of John Stuart Mill. A novel with such a character might be viewed as continuing the legacies of Henry Miller or even Bukowski.
Humanity has done everything before, and it seems that all new ideas are merely iterations and transformations of old ones. No one can truly claim to have created something new.
I have contemplated writing a novel that intertwines many threads into a single narrative. After writing and publishing it (here, I refer to my novel “al-Qannas”: "The Sniper"-2018), I discovered Marcel Proust and his "In Search of Lost Time," and I laughed at myself in scorn.
Sometimes I wonder, why bother innovating? Isn't it enough to simply enjoy what you are doing? Here I return to daydreaming again. If enjoyment is the ultimate goal, why write at all? Why try to prove anything to anyone?
I recall Nozick and the experience machine he discussed in "Anarchy, State, and Utopia." What is the purpose of life—to achieve happiness or self-realization? Are these goals contradictory or intertwined? Why did Neo rebel against the Matrix, and why did he choose the red pill? Why wasn’t Winston content with his totalitarian world and sought love, rebellion, and truth? Why didn’t Raskolnikov just enjoy the money he stole from the old woman and drown in his philosophical and psychological musings? Why did Jonas in "The Giver" try to reveal the truth to people instead of enjoying the fabricated world?
Is self-realization the path to ultimate happiness? Why doesn’t a person just imagine achieving his true self in his daydreams and be content with that? Why strive to make it a reality? And what is reality? Are we living in a world of truth, or a world of fantasy, or are we merely living in a grand illusion as ancient philosophers claimed?
It's curious how this idea has captivated scientists and philosophers through the ages, from philosophers like the Pythagoreans, Heraclitus, and Parmenides, to philosophical currents like Indian Vedanta, which sees the reality we live in as an illusion (Maya) and the ultimate truth (Brahman) reached through the higher self (Atman), to renowned scholars like George Berkeley who believed that the physical existence of things depends solely on their perception. For him, objects do not exist independently of the minds that perceive them.
Why not create a parallel existence with our minds and daydreams then? This was the idea I incorporated into my novel "al-Immlaq al-Dahik”: "The Laughing Giant," published in 2012, where human perception expands to overlay reality, forming a parallel reality and crafting another truth.
But this was before I encountered holographic philosophy, which considers the world to be a very large hologram.
The situation is amusing. It appears that there are no truly original ideas in reality, and all ideas are extensions and transformations of other ideas. There is no original creator, no idea truly born from nothing, or created from the void. This takes us to the concept of creation and the meaning of God, which is not my topic here anyway.
What I mean to say is that although daydreams are merely illusions, they can seem very real for a moment, pushing us toward amusing beliefs and attractive thoughts that perhaps the daydream is the real thing and the world is the grand illusion.
Which life are you truly living? The dream or reality? This was a fascinating topic explored by the 2012 series "Awake."
Why do we cling to reality and drown in dreams? Is it our desire to elevate reality to the level of dreams?
This desire has never been realized in any historical experiment. And even when humans address it in an artistic or creative work, their thoughts soon lead them to realize it's a trick—a political, scientific, or societal trick that creates this beautiful illusory world hiding an unbearable ugliness.
Why doesn't a person believe in his dreams even in the dream itself?
This dividing line... this firewall... this impregnable barrier that a person creates between himself and his self, then goes to cross it a thousand times a day in search of salvation, rejecting reality and opposing the dream.
Why do I love my daydream but refuse to live in it forever? Is it a lie I concoct to claim idealism for myself? Is it a deep-rooted foolishness that savors misery and pain? Is it a planted conviction in myself that believes beauty and happiness are illusions masking an unbearable ugliness?
I doubt anyone in this world can answer such questions. It is the Sisyphean misery to travel between dream and reality, to reject both the dream and the reality, to push the rock to the summit of the mountain only to let it fall from the other side once it reaches its goal.
Ever since I saw that
image—a young Palestinian kid standing defiantly in front of an Israeli tank,
hurling stones—I've been haunted by thoughts of freedom and independence. Just
think about it: a stone against a tank, a kid against a trained soldier. It
gives me goosebumps.
This image stirs up
all kinds of respect and admiration within me. It's my go-to mental image
whenever I'm feeling down or defeated. Feeling beaten is a choice, and so is
the desire to resist—even if it's just with stones against a tank. But the
latter? That's the choice of a winner, the choice of someone who's achieved a
deep sense of independence and imposed it on the world.
Fast forward to now,
and you see how this generation that once threw stones at their enemy has grown
up to shake the very existence of Israel occupation of Palestine, making even
the highest Israeli officials tremble as they speak at press conferences. That is
the real power of choice.
I've always wished I
could tap into that kind of power and impose my will on the world just like
they did. How could I lend a hand in their awe-inspiring resistance against
occupation and the desecration of Islamic holy sites? The answer has always
been crystal clear: Boycott.
Economic boycott of
anything and everything that supports this distasteful Zionist presence in our
Arab lands. But here's the kicker: a lot of people question what a boycott can
actually achieve. They downplay its importance and dismiss it as
inconsequential.
That's why I decided it's
time to give this topic the attention it deserves. I mean, if a kid with a
stone could make waves, imagine what a whole community could do with a focused
plan of action.
What does boycotting
mean?
Let's go back a bit
and see what we're saying we want to boycott. We want to boycott foreign
companies that offer their products and services on Egyptian and Arab lands,
because they support and endorse positions that harm Arab interests. Now, directly
and abruptly, these companies are showing and declaring their financial support
for the Zionist entity in their killing of our people in Gaza and Palestine.
These companies are
what we used to call transnational corporations back in the 90s, but the term
has become less used as these companies have become ubiquitous around us.
What's the tale behind
these corporations?
Transnational
corporations didn't really start in the 90s or even the 50s, but much earlier,
around the late Middle Ages and the onset of the European Renaissance. Their
main role was to sell the modern European lifestyle in exchange for the wealth
of other nations. And as we know, economics has a significant political side; a
political leader can hardly function without a businessman serving his interest.
Let's delve into the story from the beginning...
Titan Corporations
One of the earliest
transcontinental corporations was the Hudson's Bay Company, established
in 1670. Yes, that’s right, over 350 years ago. It was involved in fur trade
between newly discovered North America and the indigenous people, who are the
Native Americans.
Hudson's Bay Company
would buy fur from Native Americans and sell them European goods like clothing,
fabrics, blankets, glassware, knives, saws, axes, dishes, pots, and even alcohol.
Know what else? They sold them weapons. (Does that ring any bells?) All these
things were products that Native Americans couldn’t produce themselves, so they
traded fur for them.
Now, where would they
get a lot of fur to exchange for weapons and other goods to improve themselves?
Exactly, they hunted more and more animals. But these animals were essentially
their food source. As they hunted them at a rate higher than their
reproduction, the animals began to disappear, impacting their primary food
source.
With a lack of
nutrition, diseases began to spread among them. Their environment, social,
cultural, and economic patterns changed, making them dependent on European
products, which became a fundamental part of their traditional and natural
lifestyle. This led to increased differences and tensions between Native
Americans and Europeans, revealing the real deal with the weapons they traded
for fur.
Imagine!! just the exchange of fur for some alcohol,
pots, and weapons caused disasters to Native Americans!!
Here’s a last tidbit.
About 368 treaties were signed between Native Americans and colonizers, whether
European or US, all of which were broken. Consequently, this nation nearly
vanished from history.
Colonial Knowledge
Formation:
In 1672, another
significant corporation emerged - the Royal African Company. Their
agenda was clear cut... slave trading. They’d snatch slaves from Jamaica and
ship them to North America. Even the high and mighties in Jamaica and other
African nations were down with the slave trade.
Slave trade was very
profitable for the African nations. Initially, the colonizing countries,
primarily Britain, supported and established infrastructure like ports, roads,
and bridges to ease transportation of course. But the country was being developed.
The money paid for slaves also helped in providing resources, expanding
agricultural production, and extending trade networks between Europe and
African countries, hence flourishing the economy.
So, the topic is old,
commit any disaster and say it's for economic development and country's
progress, people will follow you.
The reality is, slave
trade led to accumulation of wealth for rulers and leaders at the expense of
the poor and marginalized. This is known.
Later, in 1711,
another very important company, The South Sea Company, was established.
Its clear and explicit goal was to finance British debts through slave trade.
Slaves and goods were transported between Europe, America, and Africa. Though
it lasted about 10 years before collapsing, the slave trade itself continued
through other giant companies that took over, like the Dutch West India
Company and the East India Company.
Economy, Epistemology, and Politics in Shaping the World:
About a year ago,
Cambridge University declared the benefits it had from slave trade and the
financial support it received from companies like the East India and Royal
African. It had been established and continued with direct support from
these companies.
Currently, it launched
a two-year research initiative to investigate its archives to see if the slave
trade was what gave it its scientific strength and status.
The funny and strange
thing is, this initiative is actually questioning whether the university
contributed to shaping racist political opinion and supporting racist beliefs
that led to the flourishing of the slave trade. Professor Martin Millett, the
head of the research team for the initiative, said one of their goals is to
understand how scholars at the university helped shape public political opinion
during that time.
Aside from the
human rights hurly-burly
Now let’s see how the
slave trade affected African countries and destroyed them. First, it reduced
the population in African countries and changed the population structure
itself. The slaves being kidnapped or sold were in their prime, from youth to
their forties or fifties, hence leaving behind only children and the elderly,
leading to a labor force deficit.
Therefore, the number
of people capable of farming and manufacturing drastically decreased, and
consequently, local industry and agriculture were destroyed. The leaders,
rulers, and upper classes with financial resources became highly dependent on
imports even for basic goods to live, thus completely relying on Europe for
supplying their basic needs.
The social destruction
from slave trade and its impact on African countries was much larger. It led to
the destruction of families losing their loved ones, hence completely
disintegrating the social structure. This led to increased skirmishes and
conflicts between tribes in their search for food and sustenance, especially
with the spread of poverty. These conflicts resulted in the capture of some
individuals, who were then sold to get money to buy European goods to survive.
So, a continuous
outflow of real resources from the country in exchange for a bunch of temporary
consumer products.
Do you see the role of
these Titans, transcontinental corporations in draining a country's resources
for their benefit? Leaving the countries where they operate not only in severe
poverty but also altering their consumption patterns and economic and social
structures to remain dependent on them continually.
A New Generation of
Corporate Colonialism
After that, a new
breed of corporations started to emerge, corporates that directly and openly
extracting resources from countries, and others were providing a modern,
sophisticated consumer product that was hard for the importing countries to
manufacture.
The first kind were corporations
like Standard Oil, founded in 1870 by John Davison Rockefeller (sound
familiar?). Their main business was exploring for oil in colonies. This company
is considered the real forefather of multinational corporations as we know them
in the 20th century. There were other companies like British Petroleum
and Royal Dutch Shell, starting to explore and extract oil from Nigeria,
Indonesia, Niger, etc. The second kind kicked off with Ford Motor Company
in the early 20th century, specifically in 1903, establishing factories
worldwide with the goal of selling the posh American product in global markets.
Gradually, the
narrative shifted from brutal colonization and destruction, like what happened
with Native Americans and Africans, to seemingly fair and normal trade. But, in
fact, it introduced a specific consumer pattern that you can’t emulate, along
with certain behaviors and a culture that continually depends on it, in
exchange providing them with economic resources. So, the idea is the same and
the business model hasn’t changed much, just got a bit disguised.
Local Economies and
the Titans
How does this affect
you?
Legend says these big Titan
corporations provide job opportunities for the youth. But the truth is
completely different. Let’s take a slow and steady look at the matter.
Firstly, offering
products or services at competitive prices destroys local industries and
services. This is because these corporation follows the principle of mass
production, meaning (put simply) its production costs are spread across a very
large production volume, thus the cost per product is low, making the price
much lower than the local product whose production is spread across fewer items
hence a higher cost per unit.
This puts local
industries under constant pressure to compete with the cheaper imported
product, often failing and disappearing. Here, the foreign company monopolizes
the market and raises its prices as it pleases.
Moreover, the
financial power of these companies, along with their advanced advertising
techniques, directs the consumption pattern in the society as they wish.
Their long-term
presence allows them to control the community's resources, whether labor,
natural resources, or money, and they can not only control the local market but
also economic policies, the way that benefits their interests.
This automatically
leads to the transfer of the community's wealth abroad, meaning all resources
and money move out of the community to the countries owning these companies.
In short, these
companies act like giant pipette. Think of it as a huge straw, but on a very
large scale.
The Myth of Youth
Jobs
Now, let’s address the
legend of providing job opportunities for the youth...
The truth is, it
destroyed the youth’s job opportunities, as it eliminated competition within
the market. Instead of having three, or thirteen companies competing within the
community, it's just one company dominating the labor market. They hire whoever
they want, determine wage levels as they wish, and lay off employees whenever
they want without the young people having an alternative or a competing company
to work for.
Of course, we haven't
talked about the cultural impact and how these companies determine social
behaviors, changing values and priorities in the society.
The Revelation
Moment:
Now it's clear to us
that the role of these companies is a covert colonial role, eventually
promoting European and American values, and controlling global markets. Here
comes a very important revelation moment when it endorses the Israeli
occupation, even supporting it by providing meals and financial support to the
occupying army.
There’s no middle
ground taken. No “all lives are sacred” Mo Salah’s kind of shit. No... It's a
clear endorsement. And it shows us that it supports those who support its
interests. And that it’s with the enemy on one side, with one common interest.
These companies come
and blatantly tell you that they support our enemy who kills our people and
desecrates our sanctities. And you still buy from them, letting them operate,
continue, and prosper. And you're okay with continuing to be a cog in the
machine that's destroying you from both ends: economically through these
companies themselves, and militarily, politically, and religiously as they
mock, desecrate your religious sanctities, and destroy your people in
Palestine.
It's exactly like
you're killing yourself or committing suicide... spending your money to buy a
knife to stab yourself with.
Do you see the big
picture now?
Do you now understand
what these companies are doing and what their impact is on me, on you, and on
all of us? Did you see these images? Do you like them?
Now come, let’s
imagine a fictional world, after everyone actually boycotted these products and
services, and see what this world would look like.
Let's Fantasize.
Imaginary World:
First off, all these Titan
corporations would shut down. Why? Because they bear huge operational costs
without any revenue or income, meaning a constantly losing resources. If they
stay open, they’ll be paying for electricity, water, labor, etc., within the country,
all from their own resources.
Now, if they close.
It’s all good. The
people and society are still here, with their needs. And since necessity is the
mother of invention, other alternatives will pop up. We've already seen this
happening with local and national companies stepping up with alternative
products.
With the people’s
support in boycotting these big companies, which will act as positive
externalities in economic terms, the national economy will slowly flourish.
More companies meeting the community’s needs will emerge. More companies
offering similar products will arise as they operate in the same market, with
prices at a similar level.
Prices will gradually
reach a real equilibrium point where both the producer and consumer reach an
optimal economic state and maximized their surpluses.
Job opportunities for
the youth will increase, products will diversify to meet the actual needs of
the people. Production methods will evolve, and local industries will slowly
strengthen; the community will produce its own innovations reflecting its true
needs.
Consequently, the real
identity of the society will emerge, with its own products, production and
consumption patterns, evolving and diversifying the culture.
Moreover, this will
train national companies to improve production methods, reduce costs and
thereby prices, increasing the likelihood of exporting national industries.
With reduced imports, the country’s trade balance will improve, strengthening
the national currency, and elevating the value of the pound against the dollar.
The market will be controlled by multiple national industries, not by a foreign
corporation representing the colonizer, and dictating the market as it pleases.
See the impact of the
boycott you underestimate?
Boycott as a
Lifestyle:
Here, I must say, our
view of boycotts should change from being an economic punishment for a
political action. Meaning, it shouldn’t only come up when we want to punish a
company or country for an offensive political or religious act, it should be a
lifestyle. A lifestyle ensuring, we step out of the cycle of someone offending
us, boycotting their products for a while, then going back to using them again.
No... It gradually transforms us into a rising power, a competitor that these
countries will gradually fear and think twice before offending.
The Real Choice:
Now you have both
pictures in front of you…
It’s left for you to
believe that your simple individual action can lead to all these huge changes,
and it will be the first step in a long journey with a far better ending than
the current situation.
If you are one who
likes to criticize the surroundings and you don’t like the conditions in the
country, here’s the one thing that can change everything in the country if you
actually do it on an individual and simple level.
And always remember, a
child with a stone had choices…
Amidst the old belongings I'd shelved for ages, by pure
chance, I found them. Buried in these ancient, neglected items, lay a weathered
manuscript, stiffened by time. It was the first novel I ever attempted during
my university days, when a personal computer was a curious creature, I barely
understood. This tale spun a story of a young man who discovers that his family
are extraterrestrial beings. Yet, he conceals this secret and grapples with the
realization that he, too, might be an alien, but chooses to live as an earthly
human, deciding his own destiny. Drafted at the dawn of the millennium on
Microsoft Word, it was printed on A4 sheets, then hidden away in a blue folder,
surrounded by mountains of books.
Among Forgotten Things
I held the manuscript gently, opening it with caution.
Memories flooded back of my first time writing it. I didn't own a computer back
then. Instead, I frequented the newly opened ‘Bibliotheca Alexandrina.’ We're
talking about the early 2000s here. I'd revel in going there from morning till
evening, diving into forums I followed, writing stories or novels, learning new
topics, conversing with friends across the globe. We'd delve into literature,
poetry, arts, and cinema, sparingly touching upon politics. We believed the
internet, especially the "Riwayat Network" forum, granted Arab youth
a platform to connect beyond the constraints set by governments, politics, and
societal norms. I was convinced that the artificial political borders between
Arab countries would someday crumble, simply because they didn't represent any
genuine divides in culture, traditions, language, or beliefs. We felt akin to a
singular entity. Despite the many conflicts and disagreements amongst forum
members, a strong foundation united us all.
Transition to a Globalized Era
Back then, I was brimming with naive optimism. I believed
the internet and various technological tools would usher in a new chapter for
humanity. They'd bridge distances, spread knowledge, and ignite millions of
minds. I thought these communication tools would bond hearts, transcending
geographical and societal boundaries. I was convinced that we were on the brink
of an ideal global community. This was before we transitioned to the next
phase.
After the proliferation of various forums, these dispersed
spaces were consumed by behemoths like Facebook and Twitter, along with
remnants of other social media platforms. These conglomerates coalesced the
scattered members of diverse forums, pushing a peculiar trend towards globalizing
individuals under a virtual reality dominated by a select few, imposing their
unique set of rules coercively upon all their members.
This was a natural extension of the world's globalization
movement under the control of economic conglomerates and multinational
corporations. For a long while, I believed the internet could dismantle these
conglomerates, restoring the world's diversity and disparities. But there was
an unsettling feeling I sensed from everyone rushing to Facebook and Twitter at
that time. It manifested in their words, actions, and the phrases they used,
sending me signals of degradation and an urge to chase the fast-paced world.
Yearning for a Bygone Era
After a year or so, the forums I followed became barren,
resembling a desert at midday. Reluctantly, and quite late, I migrated to
Facebook. Initially puzzled, I kept searching for the group or place I'd heard
had relocated to this Facebook oasis, but never found it. I wandered aimlessly,
engaging in topics I found intriguing. However, a hostile spirit prevailed,
peppered with mockery for those who couldn't adapt quickly. A rampant urge
emerged to chase everything new, every update, every unique group, before
anyone else could discover them. An insatiable desire to gain likes and comments
proliferated. There was a narcissistic obsession without any limits or
boundaries.
Gradually, the idea of combating different conglomerates
faded, and the sense of Arab unity that had overshadowed us for many years
under shared hobbies, ideas, and convictions vanished. Minor differences were
magnified, and people's personalities began to mold under their influence. The
concept of an Arab society surpassing politics and the absurdity of
nation-states disappeared. Hard truths slowly unveiled, imposing themselves
upon all dreams and hopes.
History and individuals repeated themselves without
pondering the new opportunity presented to them and its potential for genuine
change in humanity's trajectory. The internet offered everyone a chance to
regroup through a different medium, free from the traditional constraints they
resisted and suffered from. But they simply reshaped the same old nonsense in
this new magical medium.
Twisted Crossroads
I didn't realize the depth of my shock until years later.
But at that time, I just grew to despise the internet, longing for the world of
forums amidst accusations of nostalgia and an inability to keep up with
evolving trends. I didn't understand then that these so-called advancements
were regressions from the civilizational path, not progress chasing the leading
pack.
In that time, I tried a different approach. The internet
became a long street for me, knocking on doors, seeking genuine friendships or
shared interests. Yet, it grew complex, especially when trust in the person on
the other end dwindled, and they cared more about accumulating likes and
comments than genuine connection. I found myself retreating, observing from
afar with little interaction.
Then came the deafening amplifier of it all: the trend. This
obsession I sensed early on, this chase for progress or globalization or
whatever you'd call it, crystallized in the concept of 'the trend' - what
everyone's talking about. Tricks, deceptions, and even scams emerged in its
wake.
In the Shadows of the Malevolent
Various cybercrimes spread, both psychological and
financial, the dark web emerged. The internet began extracting humanity's worst
facets. It was as if all that society had suppressed, the public sphere, the
traditions and customs, found an explosive outlet online.
Yes, this tech spread knowledge and enhanced communication,
but it also fed our selfishness, our lies, our greed. Technological advancement
raced ahead, but our moral compass remained stagnant.
I realized, all too late, that technological progress
doesn't necessarily mean civilizational evolution. It might even signify the
decline of civilization, the regression of humanity within the species,
bringing forth the ugliest parts of the human psyche. The signs were always
there, I just didn't see them. I lived through wars on Iraq, Afghanistan, and
remembered Vietnam. All wars led by the technologically advanced against those weaker,
fighting guerrilla warfare amongst their own people. All these wars wouldn't
have occurred without technological progress paired with a lagging civilization
that boasts such technology.
Recall how humanity dropped the first atomic bombs on fellow
humans just to test its effects. All these wars, the strong against the weaker,
culminating in the atrocities against unarmed Palestinians in Gaza and
Palestine.
Lost in Progress
Technology doesn't lead to enlightenment; it may, in fact,
do the opposite. This lie was forged in the dreamy phase of the early 20th
century before the world confronted the fate its own actions had designed.
Technology is but an amplifier, echoing our deep-rooted values and intents. I
was deceived into believing that scientific advancement meant moral
progression; that mastering our world would refine humanity's raw edges.
The notion of progress, so gloriously celebrated, is but a
mirage that hasn't truly led to any humane evolution. We often mistake the glow
of screens for enlightenment, the hum of machines for wisdom. But what of the
progress of civilization? The advancement of the human spirit, the collective conscience,
the shared values that bind us?
In my endless daydreams and tireless imaginations, I
envision a world devoid of technology. A realm where the chirp of birds
replaces notifications, where the setting sun is our clock, and where
conversations happen face-to-face, soul-to-soul. I ponder upon the possibility:
could such a world be the ideal environment for the civilizational and
intellectual evolution of mankind? Does the possession of technological tools
and tricks ultimately lead to the loss of our civilizational capacities, our
very humanity? Does it blur the lines of moral and spiritual values?
A Quest for Genuine Connection
In this imagined world, perhaps we'd be closer to our true
selves, unburdened by the weight of relentless innovation. Without the constant
bombardment of information, maybe we'd rediscover the art of contemplation, the
joy of simple pleasures, the beauty of silence.
The technology, while it connects us globally, often
distances us from our inner selves, from our neighbors, from the very earth
that cradles us. Could it be that in the absence of this digital deluge, we'd
find ourselves more attuned to our own humanity, our shared stories, our
collective dreams?
In poetic simplicity, as the world races ahead, maybe it's
worth pausing, reflecting, and wondering: Do we lose a part of our soul with
every new invention? Do we trade away the essence of who we are for fleeting
conveniences? A world less technological might just be a world more connected,
more humane, more true to itself.
Upon my transition to middle school, there wasn't a subject I despised more than math. Back in elementary school, our syllabus covered basic operations like addition, subtraction, multiplication, long division, graph plotting, and areas of shapes, especially circles. These topics weren't particularly challenging for me, but oh boy, did I loathe them!
A Time of Numbers and Dread
In middle school, our curriculum took a sudden leap into set theory and number theory. These subjects were alien to me, turning my math world into a bleak landscape. Math class for me was a time for daydreaming and wallowing in gloom. Our math teacher was a reserved man in his thirties, always attempting to sprinkle some humor into his lessons. He would passionately explain topics and solve problems on the chalkboard right until the class bell rang. But did I pay attention? Not once!
One day, I was jolted from my reverie by a direct question from him. Imagine the shock! There he was, expecting an answer. On my face, you could read the whole definition of cluelessness. He kindly repeated the explanation and question, waiting for my response. After class, in front of everyone, he mentioned that anyone needing extra help could join his private lessons. On returning home, I recounted this episode to my dad, who, well-aware of my math woes, promptly agreed and emphasized I get the important details: where, when, and how much.
A Math Rekindled
The charming thirty-something, Mr. Muneer, reiterated what he taught in school. However, in his private lessons, he gave individualized attention, solved myriad problems, provided us with exclusive booklets, and made sure we completed our homework. Through him, I found a new love: set theory. It felt like a mathematical game, and I cherished watching numbers intertwine and separate. The idea of the conjunction "and" signifying intersection (not a cheat sign from my elementary teacher) and the disjunction "or" indicating union were fascinating foundational mathematical concepts.
By the end of my first year in middle school, I had aced my math exams. Throughout my academic journey, even in university, I consistently topped math, while geography was my Achilles' heel, possibly because of my aversion to its teacher, reminiscent of my disdain for Mr. Ibrahim Amer.
A Ledger's Duty
Mr. Muneer wasn't an angel, but he was leagues better than the elementary school scam artist. He made me genuinely appreciate math. But, he was meticulous, almost to a fault. He maintained a special attendance register, diligently marking our presence or absence. He kept a strict count of the four sessions every month, ensuring no dues remained. If you hadn't paid for the month, not a single new lesson for you! If you missed a class, why should he bear the burden? After all, he had commitments to meet.
Coins and Commitments
By the end of my second year, Mr. Muneer had tied the knot and moved into his newly purchased apartment where, rumor had it, horses could trot freely. Our lessons shifted to his fancy new place in an upscale neighborhood, a change from the old apartment we were accustomed to. And before we could dive into math, he'd whip out his ledger, ensuring if it was time for our monthly dues or if we still had a lesson left.
At elementary school, the math teacher was a dignified, good-looking man in his fifties. He wore sunglasses and dressed neatly, but he was a swindler.
PhD in Trickery Engineering
His facial expressions were always so serious, as if he was on a top-secret mission that no one else could possibly handle. He used to convince us to attend his private lessons because he (arrogantly says) not only knows the exam but also participates in its preparation.
“Because I want you to get the best grades”, he says seriously and respectfully as if he is talking to his peers, “I will pass the questions to you, and help you to answer it”.
The exam - back in our days, around the mid-nineties, was set at the level of the governorate, and the venerable swindler was hinting that he was among the best mathematics teachers in the governorate.
Because of my hatred of mathematics, back at these days, and my very bad grades, I was constantly attending his private lessons, trying to get out of my miserable attempts to get better grades.
The Magic Mark
In the final year exam, he told us, during school time, that whoever attends his private lesson that day, will be able to know a secret that guarantees success. The secret was a little mark we must put on the exam’s answer sheet, so that he, and his tribe, surely sees it, and verily we will get a better grade. “Al-A'raf (7:27)”
Later after-noon that day, I was among those who believingly listen to him, he told us that the mark is the letter “و” in Arabic, that we must put it exactly where the “x” and “y” axis meets, in our answer to the graph question. “No doubt, the graph question will be the last question in the exam,” he said waving his hand sharply in an emphatic sign “there is no talk after that”. And we left happily that day, but the next day, the exam had no graph question.
The rank Of life and Coins
Mr. Ibrahim Amer, and this is his name, used to divide the students who attended his private lessons into two different groups, each group had its own pricing. There is the “distinguished group” (ten pounds per month or week, I don’t really remember) and there is the “regular group” for sons and daughters of the poor, with only five pounds. I was attending the regular group; the five-pound, and I remember that one day I had a math question that I could not solve. After the private lesson ended, I went to him “Sir, would you please help me solving this question, I have tried many times, but I don’t understand”, I asked him. He looked at the question “No, my dear, this question belongs to the distinguished group, join them and pay the difference, and only then I will be able to help you.”, he replied approaching me with smile as he was giving me a favor.
I still remember my conflicted feelings at that moment, I was confused between his attempt to get closer and gently to me, so I join the other group, because it is the only right thing to do in the world, and the feeling of his rejection because I do not deserve his support yet. I felt the necessity of doing one specific thing, which was to pay him money, so that he would accept me among his favorite students.
Of course, during school class he would solve only one question on the board in a quick manner, and then he spends the rest of the class joking with his favorite students or talking with his fellow teachers.
Like any swindler, he was soft-spoken, had a privileged place among teachers, and had his followers. And his closest follower, of course, was Mr. Ahmed Bayoumi, who, although, used to follow his approach with a ruler, but he did not announce a distinct study group. We, his private students, were attending his private lessons in a dreary classroom in an old semi-deserted school, and Mr. Bayoumi would gather us in one class, just as vegetables are gathered in a huge burlap bag, to give us the lesson at once and for all, instead of dividing us into smaller groups. In this way, he finishes his schedule quickly.
The strange thing I remember, is that almost all the students in the school class, at the normal school, would move to the far deserted school, to sit in an almost dark class, in front of the same teacher, to get the same knowledge they supposed to have a few hours ago, in the normal class, at a better school condition.
